Save It For A Rainy Day
by SinsofMidnight
Summary: When Ed's inside on a rainy day, Roy notices a few things that no one else has. When he offers his help to his subordinate, it leads to things he never bargained for but wanted all along ;) Some lemon slices, but no full lemons! RoyEd. For Syaomie on dA! Rated M for a reason!


_So, my loves, I am back again with another story I've finally finished! I hope you all are ready for some scrumptious RoyEd! :3  
_

* * *

**Save it For a Rainy Day**

_**Fandom:** Full Metal Alchemist_

_**Teaser:**__ "That was why I was just surrendering: he obviously knew what he was doing. Hell, he obviously knew his way around a male body. Surrender was the fastest course to the outcome we both wanted.  
Besides, Roy was friggin' _sexy_ when he was demanding and forceful."_

_**Inspiration:** This wonderful piece of RoyEd was inspired by the wonderful Syaomie (formerly Syao9) on dA, by her dAmn addicting RoyEd comics. Everybody loves it when we get a little Forceful! Roy, right? :P_

_This fanfiction was partially inspired by my own arthritis, which is brought out by rainy days at times._

_**Rating: **M, because you can't spell alchemy without it!_

_**Warnings:  
**-Fun but harmless violence  
-Guns  
-Smoking  
-Forceful Roy  
-Aged until of age Ed :P  
-Some character pain  
-Paperwork  
-Pranks :P_

_**Main Pairing: **Roy Mustang/Edward Elric_

_**Minor Pairings:**  
-Riza/Havoc (implied)  
-Fuery/Falman (implied)  
-Al/Winry (implied)_

_**Setting: **Amestris. Central. Under the command of Colonel Roy Mustang._

_**POV:** Ed and Roy share (first person perspective from both), as much as the two share anything without fighting. Plus, there's a little bit of a surprise at the end :P_

_**Summary: **__When Ed's inside on a rainy day, Roy notices a few things that no one else has. When he offers his help to his subordinate, it leads to things he never bargained for but wanted all along ;)_

_**Additional ANs:**__ You really don't want to know how long this has been an in-progress fic. It will make you weep. It will make _me_ weep. It will also make me feel old, so just stay away from that topic, okay? lol I've watched the entirety of FMA Brotherhood since I started this. __Heck, I started re-watching the original!  
Also! __I managed to finish this story without using the title anywhere in the text, lmao. Enjoy :P_

_**Dedication:** Lo siento mucho. Este regalo es en inglés, no españoles, pero mi español no es hasta la tarea._

* * *

**Ed:**

Mustang _could_ have commented on the rarity of seeing me actually working on paperwork. Thankfully, he hadn't so far, because Fuery and Havoc were already looking at me as though I'd somehow managed to transmute a third head onto my body. Why they hadn't noticed the second one would be an endless curiosity.

None of these people that I worked with on an almost daily basis seemed to notice the trend of things, a fact which suited me just fine. Changes in the barometric pressure made each of the bones that I had snapped, strained, or sprained in the past _ache_ with a vengeance. It also caused the ports and connections of my automail to become achy and uncomfortable. So on this drizzly spring morning, I sought solace in a place I usually avoided like the plague: the office, where the air was overly-dry from processing.

Havoc sighed and lit up.

I wrinkled my nose at the acrid smell. Apparently, he still had yet to realize that it wasn't 'social smoking' if no one else in the office lit up. Besides, Hawkeye's office policy on smoking in the shared office space was simple: if you were smoking, you had better be on fire.

Fuery bent down, fumbling with the key he needed to unlock his lower desk drawer. He finally got it open and yanked the drawer out when gunfire sounded in the quiet office and Havoc's freshly lit cigarette fell from his stunned lips in two still-smoldering pieces.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly. It was Hawkeye's rule, after all, and she wouldn't over look it simply because it was _Havoc_.

Fuery and Falman both blinked owlishly, the motion eerily in sync.

Breda, not being especially well-known for his tact, burst out laughing before trying to hide it behind his hand. "Nice shot, Hawkeye!" he chortled, unable to hide his amusement.

In true Hawkeye fashion, she ignored his comment and set her gun back down on her desk in favor of returning to her work –not that there was much remaining for her to do, since she always kept up with it. Havoc, although disgruntled and mumbling about it being a waste of his cigarette, knew better than to stir any trouble with Hawkeye and instead, he followed her example by getting back to his own work.

The office was fairly quiet for the next two or three hours as we all fell into a pattern of flipping, sorting, reading, and signing paperwork. Even the scratching of the pen against the pages seemed loud when there was no background chatter, but at least we were getting somewhere on the mountains of paperwork.

Hawkeye had finished her work at least half an hour earlier. Currently, she entertained herself by taking apart her gun and cleaning it, which was a task she found rather soothing despite the intense expression she wore. Havoc had opened a window and now sat on the ledge, holding the sill with one hand as he ducked his head out to smoke a cigarette. Fuery was still hard at work, tinkering with some electric object but pausing to push his owlish glasses further up on the bridge of his nose each time they slid down toward the tip. Falman was still transcribing information longhand while Breda napped peacefully at his desk when the clock struck noon.

A distant church bell marked the occasion, which caused Breda to stir. Havoc check the time on his watch before stubbing his cigarette out on the window sill before maneuvering back inside the office and closing the window, then heading out to the cafeteria. Breda barreled after him like all of the food would disappear if Havoc happened to reach the cafeteria first. Fuery took a few minutes to organize himself, placing tools on one side and the parts on the other, before he lightly bumped Falman's arm and insisted that the man have lunch with him in the way that only Fuery can insist: with quiet logic, puppy-dog eyes, and his genuinely kind nature.

Hawkeye and I were quickly left behind. She quietly, quickly, and efficiently reassembled her newly cleaned weapon before she reloaded it and holstered it. I finished one more sheet in the huge piles of paperwork that I was surprised had not yet caused the collapse of my tiny, cluttered desk.

"Aren't you desperate to eat, Ed?" she teased, her blue eyes landing on me. I could almost feel the concern in her gaze.

I let out a long sigh. "I'm on a good streak with this," I returned, gesturing to the growing pile of completed paperwork. "If I leave now, I'll never get back to this rhythm, and I need to clear my desk before it really _does_ collapse on me."

She smiled at my attempt at humor, knowing how much I _loathed_ paperwork. "Would you like me to bring something back for you, then?"

I smiled at her concern before starting on the next sheet of paper, demonstrating that I was indeed serious. "That would be great, but you don't need to hurry. I can survive a little longer without eating the furniture and you need a break."

She came around the desk to wrap her warm, slender arms around me and kiss the top of my head affectionately. "All right then. The only furniture you're allowed to eat is Roy's desk, since it has all those scotch marks already, and that is only if you dig it out first." She unwound her arms from around me, and without another word, the leggy blond headed out of the office.

I exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. I'd had to dodge the cafeteria only because it was in a different complex, and I didn't want to go outside only to come back in and have my body ache if I could avoid it. there for a moment, I had been pretty sure Hawkeye was going to figure me out, but luck seemed to be on my side for the moment.

The more I tried to pay attention to the paperwork in the empty office, however, the more mundane the paperwork seemed. My mind wandered to the Colonel that was my commanding officer. It was strange to not see hide nor hair of him in the office space that we, his subordinates, shared. On top of that, it was lunch time: he _always_ abandoned his own paperwork to dine with his subordinates. Yet his door hadn't opened once yet today. I had to wonder if he was even here at all, since Hawkeye hadn't gone into his office to threaten him to get him to work at all, either.

I pondered the likely hood for a moment before dismissing the notion entirely. If Mustang hadn't come in to work, it was a sure bet that Hawkeye would have drug him in anyway, all the while telling him that he was an officer for god's sake; he should set a better example for the rest of us. Not to mention, her mood would have been a great deal worse and she would never have kissed the top of my head if _that_ had been how her day started. Besides, Roy never played hooky on rainy days: his alchemy wasn't worth much with all the water falling from the sky. No, it was more likely that she had decided that we would be the bigger problem today and she left Mustang to stew in his juices.

At which point, I was back to my original observation: it was odd to not have heard Mustang swearing or, I don't know, _burning_ things. After all, the same reason that made the office my haven on rainy days applied to him, too, after all. I looked back down at the sheet of paper in front of me and swore under my breath. Honestly, even after as many years as I had known him and tried to convince myself that I despised him, Colonel Roy Mustang could still drive me to distraction. The problem was rooted somewhere in the fact that I had the misfortune of being placed under a man that I found incredibly sexy. No horrible puns intended.

There was something in the way he _moved_, the confidence he exuded, the just-barely-reaching-the-dress-code way he liked to tempt fate on occasion, the slight feline slant to his eyes, the casually tousled hair I was pretty sure took an hour to style… something about, well, _everything_ about the damn man. Or maybe it was the intelligence he presented in any situation or the way he hid the fact he cared about each and every one of us under his command.

Unfortunately, the one thing that I couldn't seem to like about him was also the one thing that reminded me that I had no chance with a man like him. Fact was, Roy Mustang was particularly notorious among a certain set of ladies. He was vied for by every flirtatious female recruit and every woman in the neighborhoods surrounding his townhouse. While I was pretty sure that if any man had been with him, they would have shouted it from the rooftops, I was aware that my superior was more ambitious than he wished to let most people believe, aside from his best friend and those of us he trusted. The reputation that being with a man would stir up for him would destroy all of his hard work so far, and that would be ignoring the fact that I was his younger subordinate.

I couldn't even allow myself to _contemplate_ such a relationship seriously. Asking him to have a relationship with me would mean asking him to give up on the dreams that made him who he was.

What kind of a man would I be if I asked him to do that?

* * *

**Roy:**

Much to my personal chagrin, I had spent the better part of my morning pursuing the boring, monotonous piles of paperwork on my desk and perusing the back-logged reports like I still believed their contents to be interesting. As I worked through the deep piles of paperwork, I was oddly grateful that this was a slow season for those under my command. Otherwise, my ass would have been grass as soon as anyone became aware of the fact that I was over three months behind on all of my paperwork.

Riza hadn't deemed it necessary to venture into my office all morning, although I had heard the gunfire from the space they all shared and chalked it up to Havoc smoking in the office again, which annoyed Riza to no end. However, if she _had_ thought it necessary for any number of reasons, she would have found me diligently at work. And she probably would have passed out, seeing as it wasn't brought on by one of her lectures or one of her threats.

I picked up the next report with a sigh before I realized that it was some sort of situation that Edward and Alphonse Elric had resolved last week. As I read –well, skimmed, anyway– the terse report that the elder Elric brother had written, I couldn't manage to keep the smile off my face. Ed could be a real brat at times, but he certainly had his moments and there was something infections about that cocky smile of his. The kid had saved my ass on a few occasions –all right, on several occasions– with his righteous rage and general protective nature, little brother in tow and all.

He was such a serious, driven individual that when I met him, it was hard to remember that this genius was only a _child_. As such, he was still incredibly morally driven, despite his own array of sizable sins. Yet he remained completely oblivious to the fact that he breathed life into a room by simply being in it and that every eye seemed to trace the lines of his body and every hand itched to be buried in that honey-blond hair. Most of all, thankfully enough, he remained completely oblivious to the fact that I had trouble tearing my eyes away from him and keeping my hands off of him.

He was completely unaware of the fact that my mind twisted useless, sappy poetry around him. 'A golden, broken angel with a halo long golden hair' was certainly at least one of the lines that he'd have no use for. He'd cultivated and maintained his muscular physique and his honey-blond hair continued to grow longer each day. Decadent, full lips practically _begged_ me to drop kisses on them until they were kiss-swollen and bruised. Wide golden eyes openly displayed his emotions without hesitation, reserve, or disguise, although he was no stranger to subterfuge.

Edward, despite being my own personal temptation, served as my personal reminder. I'd grown so used to the lying smiling masks, the deception, ulterior motives and deliberated undermining that I truly forgot what real honesty was. Ed was still so very open with people. I wasn't sure the kid even knew _how_ to hide his emotions, sometimes. But Edward reminded me of all that was good in the world. He reminded me of a world that was worth fighting for.

I tried repeatedly to return my attention to the typed document before me, but I failed each time. I finally gave in, deciding I couldn't concentrate at the moment. Perhaps food would change my outlook on the lingering paperwork on my desk.

Opening my door as quietly as I could, I slipped into the office space they all shared, curious to see if any of my more diligent subordinates had remained to continue working on anything. I would have expected maybe Falman or Fuery to have lingered to work.

However, the only one who remained was one Major Edward Elric. To my complete and utter surprise, he sat behind his desk, bent over papers that were spread in an odd fashion, almost like an alchemic array. The usually _huge_ pile of forms in the inbox on his desk was steadily dwindling as the stack in his outbox was gaining in size.

Ed was actually doing his paperwork willingly, without grumbling or Riza having to resort to the threats that she usually used with me. Today should be named a national holiday based on those facts alone!

As I quietly observed him, he leaned back in his chair, his shoulders moving stiffly and awkwardly as a slightly pained expression flashed over his face –at least what I had glimpsed of it for a moment.

It was as thought my feet moved of their own accord, carrying me swiftly and almost silently until I stood behind him. My hands automatically settled on his stiff shoulders, which tensed as soon as he registered my touch. Obviously, my body was done asking for permission, because my hands automatically went to sooth his disgruntled muscles.

* * *

**Ed:**

The large, warm, dexterous hands working at my shoulders were a startling yet soothing surprise. I couldn't bring myself to turn away, not when those strong thumbs were melting the tension in my back like butter. The magic those hands were working in a matter of mere seconds made me want to apply them to a few more aching places on my body. But revealing that I ached in more places would mean revealing my secret, and I still wasn't sure who was currently trying to turn me into a puddle of happy, comfortable goo. It would never do anything good if I revealed this information to the wrong person. I already spent a lot of time as the leading subject around the water cooler, and I did not wish to increase my time as such.

So instead, I tried to figure out whose hands were on me through some deductive reasoning. The hands were too large to be Riza's hands. Too strong to be Falman's. Too strong _and_ too large to be Fuery's. Too dexterous to be Breda's. I was down to around two options and I wasn't sure how I felt about the notion of it being either of them, simply because… well, because one was a big-mouth and the other would mock me.

One hand brushed lightly against the base of my neck, igniting a chain reaction. A low sound of displeasure tumbled out of my throat. My whole body tensed, to the point my shoulder blades were arcing toward each other. Miraculously, my mysterious masseuse moved their attentions to the ribs below my clenched shoulder blades, then slowly back toward my spine, as though to reacquaint my body with their touch.

I desperately wanted to know who was touching me like this and how long I should allow this to continue. I thought about simply asking a question or making a statement that required some sort of reply, but I decided against that, based on the fact the only questions in my mind were very closely related to the activity I wished those hands would continue forever and the fact that anything I said would come out in a pleasure-drunk tone that I _really_ didn't want to get teased for.

Feeling thwarted, I checked my peripheral vision to see if I could catch a glimpse that way. I came up with nada. I contemplated tilting my head back to catch a glimpse, figuring that I could figuring out _exactly_ who it was with just a little more data to work with. I dismissed the notion entirely when I remembered what muscles such an action needed: the ones they were currently kneading. They would have enough forewarning to disappear from view to prevent discovery.

_Okay, now I'm getting _really_ paranoid,_ I told myself wryly. _If it gets much worse than this, I'm going to have to start bleeding off portions of it to bottle and sell it to higher-ups in the military._

The first –and only– time I'd ever seen a professional masseuse, I remembered her remarking about the pressure points: how a little bit of pressure in the right place could cure a headache or fix your posture or any variety of other things. Whether she'd mentioned it or not I couldn't recall, but I was suddenly very certain that there was one for pleasure. Mostly because the wondrous hands that had melted away various points of tension in my back managed to find one.

My eyelids fluttered closed, my head lolled back, and a low, almost inaudible sound of pleasure bubbled out past my lips.

After that, it all went so fast that I honestly have no idea how I ended up on my back and among the paperwork on my desk, with Colonel Roy Mustang –better known as the Flame Alchemist– leaning over me, his weight and his body pinning me to the desk just as much as the hand that he'd managed to gather both of my wrists with.

I blinked for an instant as my mind tried to catch up before I swallowed hard. _Mustang_ had been the one to sooth my aching muscles? I tried to reconcile the fact that I knew his hands were more dangerous than Hawkeye's sidearm with just how gentle and tender the touches had felt. As his thumbs mockingly slid across the pulse-point in my wrist, I remembered that he only wore his gloves in combat situations.

"Bastard, let me up," I hissed out, forcing anger into my voice and into my expression in a half-assed attempt to cover just how _aroused_ this situation was making me.

He leaned further into me, thankfully not pressing against me in places that would make my arousal obvious to him. he was chuckling at me, like I was the stupid animal that fell for the bait. "Why should I, Fullmetal?" he asked me, intention all a more sensual edge to a voice that already made me think of hot, sweaty bodies merging as one and swaddled in black-silk sheets.

Instead of answering the question he posed, I decided to try asking nicely for once. "Please let me up, Mustang," I requested, my tone as reasonable and normal as I could made it for the moment.

He smiled at me. Not his amused smile or his genuine smile: his 'I'm-plotting-something-please-ask-me-how' smile. That's why I wasn't surprised that he inclined his head to press his lips against my neck.

What surprised me was that he found the most sensitive place on my entire neck. I was an instant puddle of arousal. He could have done _anything_ to me at that point, _anything_, and I wouldn't have cared as long as he gave that particular patch of skin his attention.

* * *

**Roy:**

A mewl slipped past his lips as his stiff body suddenly went slack beneath me. It seemed that I had instinctively selected one of his more erogenous zones. I couldn't help but smile against his neck before nibbling and licking and nipping the tender skin until I had a honey-blond wild cat pinned beneath me. He writhed and pressed and arched toward me, his body begging for friction I refused to offer to him. Noise after arousing noise poured from his mouth like the most potent, perfect wine ever created.

I knew that I could have gone further –done more than mark his neck– but although the thoroughly aroused creature beneath me might wish for it, that didn't mean that _Edward Elric_ wanted it. I knew the difference between hormones and heart, and I didn't want to do anything that would keep him from being able to work with me and with the rest of them. if this went beyond a mere mark, I knew that he _wouldn't_ be able to work with me, which would be a damn shame. Not to mention, Riza would rob me of the proper equipment required for human reproduction if I managed to drive away the boy I'd recruited myself.

So instead of going further, I pulled back and gave him a snarky smile.

"Mustang?" he growled out, glaring at me with eyes that seemed to be plotting my imminent demise.

Ah, well, at least I got to taste the flavor of that golden skin before I died. "Yes, Ed?" I purred back softly.

"Kiss me," he commanded, his eyes suddenly becoming wide, hazy pools of molten gold.

I'm certain my eyes widened at his command. _Ah, well, being as I rarely favored military hierarchy, I think I can look favorably on a Major commanding a Colonel._

* * *

**Ed:**

I wanted to be shy and embarrassed. Hell, I wanted to melt into the desk! But my pride would not allow me such luxuries, so I stared at him head-on.

Slowly, a wicked smile spread across his lips. suddenly, those lush lips were against mine and one of his hands played in the wispy hairs at my nape. I couldn't help but moan into the decadent kiss and the smoky taste of his mouth.

_The things he does with his tongue should be illegal,_ I mused dazedly in my head.

I was overcome by the fact that I wanted so much _more_! Not ten minutes ago, I would have never dreamed that I would ever know how he tasted. But, greedily, how I wanted more –I wanted _everything_: his lips against mine, his tongue sliding against mine, his body stretched out above mine, his long fingers learning my body. My legs spread gradually, of their own accord, and naturally, he took a moment to resituate himself between my legs. He paused, a smile ghosting across his lips –I only knew because I could _feel_ it –when he encountered my growing erection. I wanted to blush or melt into the desk until I felt the press of his own arousal against me. Then my mind was blank from the pleasure, although I'm sure that I made some sort of unintelligible sound.

We'd paused in our kissing to take half a second to catch a breath, but when we came back together, his kiss was darker, hungrier. Where he'd once asked, he demanded –or he just took. I couldn't help myself: I arched into him so our bodies were pressed as tightly together as possible and I returned the kiss with every ounce of wanting that had accumulated within me over the years. His hands ceased their previous activities, only to tug desperately at my clothes until they allowed him entry.

His warm hands skimmed across my chest, his long fingers tweaking my peaked nipples and drawing a low growl from my throat. His lips quirked against mine before trailing down my jaw, dropping sweet, open-mouthed kisses as he went. Trembling, I laced my fingers into his hair, as if it would let me control anything.

I was hardly innocent when it came to sexuality. I mean, I was an adolescent male. I lived in a military barracks with a bunch of other men: I had heard every sort of sex story a man could tell, and some only a woman would tell. I wasn't a stranger to the urges or to succumbing to them –I had one very found female friend that _always_ enjoyed it when I came to her.

But this was _Roy Mustang_, notorious flirt and ladies' man. My experience was miniscule at best in comparison to his. It was said that if Roy Mustang wanted a different woman in his bed every night for a year, he could go _three_ years without repeating with any of his very eager partners.

I felt inadequate by comparison, despite the fact that I had wanted this man since I'd known what it meant to want someone. Something deep inside of me knew that no one would ever be able to come close to making me feel the way I felt when he touched me, the way I felt when he kissed me, or the way I felt when I pleased him with my reactions. I was stuck on the man in the worst of ways.

That was why I was just surrendering: he obviously knew what he was doing. Hell, he obviously knew his way around a _male_ body. Surrender was the fastest course to the outcome we _both_ wanted.

Besides, Roy was friggin' _sexy_ when he was demanding and forceful.

* * *

**Roy:**

I paused from kissing my way down his sternum to glance at him. He'd become relatively quiet and I had to wonder if he was considering where this might end up. But when I looked into his eyes, I could see his genuine affection for me as it mingled with a shot of pure _heat_ that I felt in my own bones.

His hand moved to cradle my head and he drew my lips back to his for an almost-tender kiss. As we kissed, his hands went to work on unbuttoning my uniform with a somewhat startling level of expertise.

When I drew back, I needed no words to ask the question.

"They're buttons, Mustang: it doesn't take a child prodigy to figure them out," he remarked dryly as he finished with the last button on my shirt. I slid the blue uniform shirt off easily, letting it fall to the floor as I peeled off the black undershirt I wore beneath it. long, sensual fingers reached out and trailed lazily from my sternum down toward my pelvis, carefully tracing the line of fine dark hair.

The smile such a simple action brought to his face was far from childish and innocent. It was the sort of smile that a man wore when he knew exactly what he wanted and just how to go about obtaining it. I pressed a kiss to his sinful smile and sent my own hands to work on discarding the numerous garments he wore –although, to be fair, most of them were already parted and were no longer an obstacle to a man such as myself.

At least, they wouldn't have been if my brain didn't completely shut down when his hand slid into my pants and teasingly caressed my arousal. At that point, _thinking_ became an obstacle between me and getting into his tight leather pants. In fact, I was finding it bothersome that I couldn't use my alchemy without my gloves and that if I recklessly burnt away his clothes with my mind this lust-fogged, I could easily burn away his skin, as well.

Let's just say that my logical thinking was… _impaired_.

He smirked knowingly and maneuvered my pants until they dropped easily to the floor. So there I stood, between his parted legs and wearing not much more than an intense expression, as he teased me with a barely-there touch. He grinned at me and then kissed me, engaging my tongue in a duel for territory. Mimicking the action of his hand wrapping around me, his tongue twined loosely around mine before sliding teasingly against the roof of my mouth.

_Just when did he get the upper hand, here?_ I wondered, dazed.

Intent on retaining _some_ control, I drew back from the kiss, although it nearly killed me to gaze upon those molten golden eyes so full of want and those soft, eager, bruising lips of his without caressing him at all.

"Fullmetal," I ground out, clinging to a failing tendril of control.

"Yes, _Flame_?" he asked, his tone taking on the tone that always informed me all hell was going to break loose. The biting emphasis on my title was _not_ appreciated.

_Ah, hell, when did I manage to screw this all up?_

I grinned at him and quickly removed first his shoes, then his pants as I drug his boxer-briefs away with them when I gripped the waistband of his pants.

He blinked up at me, his lovely eyes suddenly full of confusion.

"This is _my_ seduction, Ed," I told him as my grin took a turn for the wicked.

He shook his head. "Sure it is, Roy. Or it will be if you stop standing there like an idiot."

I glared at him before I decided he had a point. _Not that I'll ever admit that aloud_. My hands shoved at the remaining garments that tried to hide his torso from me as my mouth sought out one of the sensitive places on his neck, where it sloped down into his shoulder. Despite my rough impatience, I managed to remove his signature red coat and his black jacket without ripping them. Unfortunately, the black undershirt tried my patience, so I ripped the damn thing down the middle.

When his mouth opened to squawk about the injury to his wardrobe, I kissed him, harshly parrying his words with the quick thrust of my tongue. To my surprise, instead of mumbling cursed at me for ruining his shirt, a moan tumbled past his moist lips as his eyes seemed to haze over slightly.

Smirking at his response, I bent my head to attend to his now-bare chest. I kissed and nipped my way down his sternum, then switched quickly to the harden peak of his nipple. I sucked and lathed and nibbled on the tender flesh until he gasped; then I turned my attention to his other nipple as my hands drifted down to rest on his thighs. This time, as I circled my tongue around his tightened nipple, I drew small circles on the inside of each of his thighs with the pads of my fingers.

When he made a soft sound of pleasure, I couldn't believe just how much _more_ I wanted to hear from him!

Unfortunately for both of us, what I was hearing instead was approaching footsteps and chatter.

Ed swore heatedly as he reached out to hurriedly to grab and don the clothing that had been shed. I did the same, trying to straighten my uniform and my hair as he transmuted his ripped shirt back together. we finished dressing in a hurried, tense silence as the approaching footsteps grew louder.

Ed eyed me for a moment before yanking my head back down so that our lips could meet. He kissed me hard, then released me. "I can't believe you're leaving me in this condition and I'm letting you live," he grumbled sourly.

"Well, you could join me in my office to finish what we started." The offer was out before I had a chance to think clearly.

"I think I'll have to pass. Riza would check on us. Plus, I, uh, doubt we'll be very quiet." A blush bloomed on his cheeks. "How about… after work? At your place, maybe?"

I couldn't keep the smirk from my lips. Of all the things I associate with rainy days, very few of them were good. I had never _dreamed_ that 'sex with Edward Elric' would ever go onto that list, yet it seemed that this rainy day had my good fortune in mind and _not_ my karma.

"About that… I think I know _exactly_ where we can find the privacy to finish this," I informed him, caressing his arm and watching the shiver run through him.

* * *

**Ed:**

"Ahn! Are you sure we should be here?" I asked him, trying to not let my mind get completely swallowed up by the sensation. As it was, my question was barely intelligible between the sounds he wrung from my throat and my own labored breathing.

He paused from trailing his tongue down my torso, but his hand continued to slide against my cock in a teasing fashion. "You want me to stop?" he purred out, purposefully quickening his pace to achieve the answer he wanted.

My head lolled back from the sheer pleasure. I was still unperturbed by him playing my body for the answer he wanted, mostly because it was the answer I would have given him, anyway. "Nn… n-no!" I moaned out, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

He pressed his lips to my skin and I felt his lips quirk into a smile. "Then stop asking that."

He parted my legs further and guided my hips into a new position. I had to bend my back more and shift my balance. When he began lathing my entrance with his tongue, all manners of coherent thought fled from my mind. In those moments, I was a noisy, horny, happy mess, and Roy's only goal was to arouse me further.

And Roy _always_ succeeded in his goals.

* * *

**General Armstrong:**

As I strode into my office, something shiny caught my eye from the floor by my desk. Frowning, I crouched down to pick it up.

It was a screw. _What could that have come from?_

I rolled it between my thumb and my pointer finger. It was lighter than a normal screw. It didn't come to a point, either, and it was rather squat for its diameter. But there was something familiar about the combinations of dimensions that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

My frown grew when I realized what it was from: a piece of automail.

_Who had been in my office while I was away?_

"General Armstrong, sir?" Lieutenant Miles asked, sticking his head into my office.

I looked over at the half-Ishvalan man. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

He crossed the vacant office to hand me a sheet of paper. "Colonel Mustang asked me to give this to you."

My frown was never going to leave today, at this rate. I took the sheet from him and read it.

My hands began to tremble with rage. "I am going to kill that man," I bit out angrily. "Even if it is the last thing I do, I will _kill him_!"

* * *

_**Whew! 6000+ words of awesomeness and not a whole lemon in sight :P**_

_**I hope I'm not being a tease .**  
_

_So! What do _you_ think the note said? _

_PM/Message me your notion of what the note said (please don't leave it in a review) and I will select and post a winner!  
_

_The winner gets a fanfiction from me -and, top priority on my to-do list!_

_**Review! Give me love, demand a full sex scene, demand a battle to the death between Oliver Mira and Roy... whatever turns you on, just review, because reviews are love :heart:  
**_


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